Lovers and Madmen
by Caiyah
Summary: "Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more than cool reason ever comprehends."  Riddler/Female OC. Rated M for future content. Multi-chap/WIP Enjoy!
1. RevolutionChapter 1

**Lovers and Madmen**

Characters - Edward Nygma (The Riddler)/Female OC

Rating for language, violence, and eventual sexual scenarios

Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to DC/Batman. I own original characters only. This story is merely to entertain, no infringement or offense meant.

**Chapter 1 - **_**Revolution**_

Edward Nashton was rarely surprised. When a person was as intellectually gifted as he was, life held little excitement. So as he awoke one morning, it didn't surprise Eddie that he was bored. He hadn't done a caper in weeks and none of his fellow villains had terrorized Gotham enough to drag him out of his rut. Riddler needed to _do _something, he decided as dragged himself from bed. After showering and dressing in a simple cotton button up shirt of light blue and navy slacks, he walked from his modest bedroom to his kitchen. While Riddler had a home base out by Gotham's warehouse district, he preferred to keep his living space separate, in case his lair was compromised or destroyed. Equipment could be replaced, but he was particular about his personal effects. A perfect example of this particularity was his morning routine.

Every morning Eddie woke, and exercised lightly. Years of being beaten up were beginning to take their toll, so the better condition he kept his body in, the less injuries he sustained bothered him. After exercising, he would shower and dress and then make his coffee, which was a personal blend of ¾ Dark Roast to ¼ Hazelnut Dreams. While his coffee percolated, he pulled out the Half & Half and his favorite ceramic coffee mug – white with the motto, "Don't bother me or I'll have CROSS WORDS with you!" The mug was a gift from The Clown Prince during their last tenure at Arkham. Joker was a sociopathic whack job, but he and Eddie shared a common love of bon mots. Eddie returned the favor by giving Joker a box of gag items. At Arkham, it was the little things that kept the frequent guests sane.

The robust aroma of coffee filled the kitchen and Eddie poured the steaming liquid into his mug before adding the milk. A cautious sip proved the brew to be satisfactory, so he took a larger swig, and sighed in pleasure as the heavenly drink ran down his throat. Once the first cup was drained, Eddie poured another and sat at his breakfast nook with a pen and notepad.

_Alright, I want to do something, but what? Bank heist? No, too simple and no pizzazz. Jewelry? Then I have to fence it and I hate dealing with Frank anymore than necessary. Art? Nothing new has come through Gotham recently. I should check to see what's coming up, maybe that will inspire me._ In annoyance, Eddie slammed the pen down on the counter. He held in highest esteem the truth, knowing the answers, so when a solution eluded Eddie - it really pissed him off. Quickly, he finished the coffee and washed and returned the mug to its place before stalking into his living room. Grabbing his brown leather loafers from the door, he slid the shoes on his feet and tied the laces. Next he picked up his wallet and cell phone from the mahogany stand beside the front door, and pulled his key ring off the hook marked "Home". Once he had everything, he entered his garage.

Eddie liked nice things, but he wasn't ostentatious. He certainly could afford a mansion or a Rolls Royce but preferred to save his money for his high-end equipment and tools. Plus, he preferred to maintain a low profile during down time. The chances of getting noticed were greater by sailing around Gotham Harbor on a newly acquired yacht. Sometimes more isn't better, it's just gaudy. Although, he did splurge on a blacked out Audi R8 for his high speed needs.

However, even a modest criminal valued performance and luxury, which was why Eddie selected an Audi Q5 for his mundane errands. The deep blue, fully-loaded SUV was sleek and elegant but impressive under the hood. He settled himself in the tan leather seat and started the engine before driving out of his garage and onto the street.

Eddie loved living in Gotham and the diversity she held. There was rich culture next to the dark slums; billionaires walking down the street with the lowest and most dangerous of psychopaths. He could enjoy the latest collection on display at the art gallery and then, as The Riddler, steal the pieces he wanted. Day and night the city was always bursting with activity, legal and illicit, like a fruit ripe for the picking. No matter what section of town – Old Gotham, Downtown, or the Harbor – there was something to see. Street vendors were hawking everything from religion to knock-off jewelry, bootleg electronics to t-shirts. The birds were chirping and searching for food. Kids were rolling skateboards down sidewalk, forcing other pedestrians out of the way. The rush hour traffic filled the air with the stench of gas, but as Eddie came to a stop at a red light the mouth-watering aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls wafted across his nose causing his stomach to growl.

Despite the relatively early hour, the humidity was already in force. The hot, heavy thickness seemed to permeate his air conditioning, and a bead of sweat rolled down his spine as he sat idle. Usually the proximity to the coast afforded cooling breezes that swept in from the Atlantic Ocean across Gotham Bay, but today the air was still and silent, hanging like a sticky, invisible cloud. As Eddie readjusted his position in the seat, he could feel his shirt already clinging to his back. A second bead rolled from his jet black hair down his pale face. Lovely. Pulling out a handkerchief from his pants pocket, he mopped his brow.

Further souring Eddie's mood, a car pulled up behind him blaring the most god awful noise, for he certainly wouldn't call it music. All he could hear was the bass, booming like torpedoes. In fact, after a minute he could feel the bass thumping, rattling his entire car. His head began to throb in time with the beat and Eddie silently pleaded with the light. When Rock 'n Roll first came out, it was met with extreme resistance, but at least the songs had words, melody, and a discernible beat – not just 'BOOM' for four minutes straight.

Maybe he was growing old, but he knew there had to be a link between the decline in society and the decline in entertainment. Art reflects Life and Life reflects Art, so it stood to reason that if Life was crap, Art would be, too. And vice versa. Music, TV, movies - they were outward reflections of society's interests and capabilities. Eddie did not think too highly of a world that held in esteem the Hills and the Bachelor and Real Housewives as valuable entertainment. Behind his sunglasses, Eddie's icy blue eyes narrowed. The light changing from red to green redirected his irritation.

Criminals don't become super villains for no reason, they became great because of extraordinary abilities. Some had phenomenal strength, some lightning fast reflexes, some were genetically altered metahumans. But most of Gotham's elite class of supervillains held one thing in common - intelligence. They could research and plan to pull off outrageous capers. No one trumped the area of planning and strategy like The Riddler. He was a perfectionist and neurotic, but his genius made him an outstanding criminal. One of his basic tenets was a daily routine. By following a routine, people know where and when to find their target; by breaking from that routine, the target can outsmart his enemies. Eddie's morning routine concluded with a trip to Daily Dan's News Stand. And since The Riddler wasn't in anyone's crosshairs at the moment, Eddie felt safe to keep his schedule and visit Dan's for his daily news. Behind every great individual was an exceptionally great source of intel.

Being located downtown near the police station, Dan frequently heard gossip and was willing to share, for a small fee. Finding a parking space, Eddie secured his car and approached the shop. There were a couple of tables outside, but with the weather today, Eddie preferred to enjoy his paper inside. It was a hole-in-the-wall coffee house and newsstand that was smaller than some walk-in closet, but that was Dan's idea - get them in, get their money, and get them out.

Out of politeness, Eddie purchased a coffee and went to grab his periodicals. He grabbed a national paper but the Gotham Times was sold out. Eddie liked to read the paper first, form his own opinion, before he asked Dan for the untold story. Plus, the shop happened to be packed full of people this morning which was not ideal for gathering private information.

Everywhere Eddie looked people were standing in line, waiting for orders or conducting business at the few indoor tables. In fact, the only vacant table was located next to two fashionably dressed young women. By a stroke of luck, good or bad, they had a copy of the Gotham Times haphazardly folded in front of them.

"Excuse me, ladies, do you mind if I borrow that newspaper?" Eddie asked as politely as possible. The girls shared a look and giggled obnoxiously.

"Um, sure. Not like we're reading it," the redhead shrugged.

"We only wanted Page 8," the blond explained. Page 8 was the section reserved for Entertainment news and Gossip. The blond-haired girl half threw the paper in his direction. Eddie took the paper and seated himself at the open table, smoothing out the wrinkled pages.

"I completely forgot what we were talking about!" The red-headed woman complained.

"Miriam's wedding. You're such a ditz, Stacy!"

"Shut up Veronica! Anyways, yeah, I guess Miriam has turned into a total Bridezilla. She wants to get married in South Padre but with that oil spill thing, it's all ugly and stuff."

"I don't see what the big deal is, anyway. Can't they just, I dunno, suck all the oil up?"

"Do you actually care?" Stacy asked in disbelief.

"No. But I don't want to hear about it anymore! Teddy was going on and on about it the other night because I guess they had some talk during his Ethics of Business class. I'm like 'Can you shut up about it already? I'm having a crisis here!' Polio's screwed up my hair! Instead of Lemon Meringue they put Sunshine Sweet on me. Totally wrong for my skin color."

"I'm glad you said it first, I was thinking you looked brassy."

"Yeah. I totally hope someone fires that bitch. If you can't read a friggin' bottle, you shouldn't be doing hair, ya know?" Veronica huffed.

"Uh huh. I quit going to Angelo's because they always messed up my wax."

"I mean, aren't there, like, competent people in this city?"

"I told you to go to a Senior Stylist!"

Veronica said nothing in reply but turned back to their gossip pages. "Oh my God! Look, it's Lila," the blond, Veronica squealed, jabbing her finger into the page.

Stacy laughed. "She is so trashed in that picture!"

"I thought because of her DUI she wasn't supposed to go out?" Veronica whispered excitedly.

"She isn't! But you know they'll let her off, just because her daddy is about to run for governor or something?"Stacy replied.

"I didn't know that!"

"Me either, but Robert cares. He thinks he'll get an internship or something. I'm like 'Do I look like I should be on the arm of a senator?"

"Maybe Robert should get in with the mayor's office." Veronica said.

"Maybe. I mean, we do have a new mayor," Stacy said.

"How'd you know?"

"It says on the front page," Stacy replied, pointing to the front page headline of Eddie's paper.

"What happened to our last one?"

"Hell if I know. I don't even know what the last one's name was."

The girls laughed until the shrill tones of a pop song emitted from Stacy's purse. Eddie didn't listen to pop music so he didn't know the song or performer. All he knew was the high pitched male voice was grating.

"Hello? I'm sitting here with Ronnie... Why would I know you're meeting Teddy and the boys for lunch?... Fine!... I'll see you later!" Stacy said, snapping her phone shut.

"Robert?"

"Yeah. He's all 'Where are you?' And I'm like, "uh, with my girls, duh!' And he's like, well, I'm meeting the boys at the pub to watch The World Cup, so we're not going out tonight."

"But we were going to the movies tonight," Veronica whined.

"I know! I mean, it's just a soccer game. Who cares? Watch the highlights on ESPN or something. I'm so bummed, now the day is ruined! I rescheduled my spa day for our date!"

"Awww," Veronica moaned in sympathy, giving a dramatic pout. "Well, we can still do something, if you want. I know where this is a _killer_ Accessories sale today!"

"You are so awesome!"

"What are besties for?" The girls giggled, gathered their belongings and thankfully left the store.

Eddie gritted his teeth; his patience had dwindled to dangerously low levels. He admittedly understood little about the female psyche, but knew that gossip and shopping and vanity were a staple of female gatherings. However, these girls were exceptionally vapid. Was society regressing into nothing more than gossipmongers, air-headed twits who couldn't speak proper English, and people able to cheat the justice system because of their name and celebrity? All he wanted was the chance to enjoy the newspaper and plan a little mischief and these girls had soured his morning. Sighing in resignation, Eddie opened the national paper and began to update himself on the day's current events.

War, financial crisis, politics – same old, same old. The Oil spill was [still] disastrous. How all those executives and scientists were unaware of the severity of the problem, he didn't know. And here, two months later, over 100,000 barrels were leaking daily into the Gulf. Eddie was surprised Red hadn't intervened yet. Eddie actually pitied the poor bastards if _she _got her hands on them.

The new iPhone was being released this week. Thousands upon thousands of people could spend hundreds of dollars on a piece of technology that in a year would be obsolete. Was it any wonder the financial advisors were concerned about a Recession? Jobless claims aside, people were losing their homes and filing for bankruptcy but could blow nearly a thousand dollars on a phone. Eddie thought it ironic that the President was pushing for exercise awareness to help battle the national obesity crisis and yet the country was clamoring for devices that could do everything except wipe their ass for them.

Reading the Gotham Gazette fueled his internal fire. The front page headline touted the election of Jacqueline Connor as Gotham's new mayor. Eddie knew little about her other than she was knew to Gotham's politics. Gotham had a horrible track record for mayors. Most were bribed or blackmailed into supporting the illegal activities of the mobs and super criminals or they were killed. Reading about Ms. Connor new initiatives to clean up Gotham, Eddie was unsure which category she would fall into.

For instance, she was allowing the City Council to repeal voter petition initiatives. Voters put these officials in office. It seemed to Eddie a shady move to not allow the people express their concerns, such as a laundry list of new taxes and revenue programs. Mayor Connor was demonstrably vague on the details of how these funds would be distributed and by whom.

She was also creating programs to help the lower income citizens of Gotham. Housing, food, health care would all be more readily available through the redistribution of existing funds. In fact, a couple millions dollars was already allocated to create a database to help these less fortunate individuals. No, he had read that correctly. A couple million dollars was allotted expressly to create a database so that people could then use government money to secure necessities. The fact that so much money and time needed to be spent on a way for to find the subsidized housing that the government would then turn around and pay for astounded the veteran villain.

As smart as Eddie was, even he didn't understand her Traffic Congestion Relief fund. Gotham had mass transit available so Eddie was unsure what more this woman was expecting to achieve. Conveniently, her comments on that program were exceedingly generic other than she was replacing the city's parking meters with new electronic card reader versions. The intention behind the switch was to free up city workers, such as the overworked police force, for other purposes. Eddie felt it was another way to make money.

What caught the super criminal's eye, however, was the "Correctional Education Program" Mayor Connor felt the best way to deal with Gotham's "little crime problem" was to spend an untold amount of money with an annual budget of $200 million dollars to rehabilitate inmates. Wasn't the point of jail to rehabilitate the criminal? The new mayor felt if education and vocational training were provided that the criminals of Gotham would lead more profitable lives and be productive members of society. Last time Eddie checked, Blackgate Penitentiary was full because its inhabitants _didn't _want to work. Many of them had a vocation, such as auto mechanic, they simply chose to use it in non-legal endeavors. And if she thought any of that would help the residents of Arkham, she was either stupid or crazy herself. Arkham Asylum dealt with the criminally insane. Riddler and his cronies would never accept "courses on life management and social adaptation". As if Croc or Zsasz could adapt socially. It would, however, be amusing to see some poor government schmuck trying to teach Joker life management skills.

Each of the articles incensed him further, showing how shallow and ridiculous the country was becoming. Eddie was seething, his teeth grinding against each other. This was the last straw. Throwing the papers away in disgust, he left the coffee house without even speaking to Dan.

How society could continue with such grievous abuse of money and power was beyond him. And how could Gotham tick by unaffected by these gross travesties being forced upon her? Where was the outrage? Gotham, nay society as a whole, was in crisis. Society reminded Eddie of sheep, and Gotham was a corral for the weak and mindless. If the people were stupid enough to follow blindly like sheep, they would be treated like animals.

Gotham was screaming for a voice of reason and Riddler felt compelled to answer. Now.

For a moment, Riddler sat in his car with his thoughts whirling. He needed to make a demonstration, but how to get the message across? Get the most bangs for the buck? Bang, that's it! The Mayor was giving a speech at 1 p.m. to announce her referenda and unveil the new parking meters. He would blow up the new parking meters Mayor Connor was displaying this afternoon. And with enough explosives, he could get the meters _and_ a chunk of City Hall _and_ cause mass panic downtown.

Riddler would show Mayor Connor and Gotham the difference between foolhardy idealism and realism. The mindless fools would see his demonstration and be awakened, inspired to make protests of their own! Power is not what a leader hopes to achieve, but how great his influence is.

Turning the key, the car's engine purred to life and Riddler sped through the city towards his lair. As he drove, his genius mind crafted a plan. He would steal a car and plant a bomb in it and drive it to the steps of City Hall. Yes, it was a perfect plan. The bomb would detonate right as the new mayor was making her first public speech. After the fallout, he would catch the train and inconspicuously fade into the hoi polloi on the streets.

Eddie was almost giddy. He couldn't wait to see the panic, hear the screams of terror. When they were begging for deliverance, he would guide them to a better path. Arriving at his lair, Riddler quickly parked his car inside the garage before grabbing his tools. Grabbing a straw fedora and gloves, Riddler returned to the street. He strolled along the sidewalk, adopting a posture of nonchalance, but inside the adrenaline was beginning to flow. The Riddler had a crew of four he occasionally employed, but as this was a simple car bomb and remotely detonate job, he felt it didn't warrant the time necessary to call the crew together and debrief them. Besides, there wasn't any money involved and Eddie was a little stingy. No need to pay your hired hands if you could do the work yourself. And Riddler _wanted_ to do this, to create an explosion of his own making. Few people understood that often committing the crime itself was as rewarding as its objective.

After a few minutes of casing, a suitable transport was spotted. He decided upon an old white Chevy Astro van luckily free of any advertising. Riddler felt no guilt as the owners of the vehicle would likely profit from the insurance settlement due to its loss.

Unfolding a hangar, he quickly worked at the window and on the third attempt managed to pop the window's lock. Sliding into the driver's seat, he broke into the steering column and began to hotwire the van. Within minutes, the engine sputtered to life, so Riddler shifted the car into gear and drove back to his lair. Upon arrival, he parked the stolen transport in front of warehouse's bays.

Dialing a number, the phone rang a couple times before a familiar voice came on the line.

"Riddles! How the hell are you?"

"Gotham is too quiet."

"I've been thinking the same thing," Joker said.

"Are you up for a little mayhem this afternoon?"

"You have to ask?"

"Very well. I'm having a little demonstration to show our new mayor how much I appreciate her new efforts."

"Will there be fireworks?"

"Most definitely. Her tenure will begin with a bang!"

Joker howled with laughter, understanding Riddler's meaning. "What do you need me for?"

"Keep the Winged One busy so he doesn't crash my party."

"Easy Peesy!"

"Great. The mayor is set to give a speech on City Hall's front steps at 1 and I'm giving her one hour."

"You're being generous."

"She is new to Gotham, so I'll give her a learning curve," Riddler quipped back.

"Well, places to see, people to go!" And the line went silent. Riddler shook his head began assembling his supplies.

Prepaid cell phones were a criminal's lifeline, and Riddler had a stockpile of them for occasions such as this. He wanted to be safely away from the blast but close enough to see his work firsthand. The master criminal manipulated the phone so it created an electrical circuit, and attached a radio transmitter in order to remotely activate the detonator at the designated time. A quick test confirmed the rigged cell phone received radio signal so the completed detonator was set aside. Riddler decided an extra bomb would be the exclamation point to his statement so he fashioned a second detonator.

Once confident the detonators worked, he affixed them to the bottom of the lids to two fifty-five gallon drums. Then he carefully prepared two fertilizer bombs from diesel fuel and ammonium nitrate in each barrel before sealing the containers closed. Fertilizer bombs were putrid but potent.

With the bombs ready, Riddler loaded the barrels into the stolen van. Now all that remained was his trademark – the clue. He simultaneously loved and hated his compulsion because it was uniquely The Riddler, his personal stamp on the world. But, on the other hand, whether it was solely a neurosis or a twisted sense of honor, The Riddler always had to give his victim an escape. Puzzles needed answers or there was no point. After scribbling out a suitable clue, he grabbed his laptop, drove the van to City Hall.

Thank you for reading! I'd be ever so grateful if you left a comment. Anything helps to continue the story and improve it. Chapter 2 (You can't always get what you want) coming soon!

Big thank you and yummy cookies to my fabulous beta readers - Toccata 9. and Valkyrien! You guys rock!

Caiyah


	2. Bad DayChapter 2

_"Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more than cool reason ever comprehends." ~Shakespeare_

**Lovers and Madmen**

Characters - Edward Nygma (The Riddler)/Female OC

Rating for language, violence, and eventual sexual scenarios

Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to DC/Batman. I own original characters only. This story is merely to entertain, no infringement or offense meant.

**Chapter 2 - Bad Day**

"Sometimes the system goes on the blink

And the whole thing turns out wrong

You might not make it back and you know

That you could be well that strong"

At precisely 6:20 a.m., the sudden shrill tones of an electronic buzzer filled the quiet of Tamera York's apartment. Instinctively, she slammed the Snooze button. The buzzer, undeterred, tried ten minutes later, and again she silenced the offending alarm. Nine minutes passed and buzzing started, even louder than before. "Okay, I'm up!" Tamera shouted to the room. Her alarm was on a progressive timer. Each time she hit Snooze, the alert would sound off one minute less and a level louder. Turning off the buzzing, she stretched briefly before climbing out of bed. Tamera removed her pajamas and almost danced to the shower. Normally, she was not so cheerful in the morning, but this morning was special. Today she learned who got the promotion of Manager at her job.

Opening the closet door, Tamera didn't hesitate on choosing her favorite outfit, an off white pant suit and crimson top. Plugging in the iron, Tamera focused on her other morning tasks while the iron heated up. A few minutes later she deftly pressed her suit, and quickly threw her top on the board. In Tamera's excitement, she forgot to change the iron's setting to "Delicate" so when she placed the hot metal to the silken top, the heat began melting the soft fabric. Lamenting the loss of her favorite top, Tamera settled for the first professional looking shirt she could find, ran the iron over it and dressed. She quickly pulled her light auburn hair into a low ponytail, applied some light makeup and, with one last look in the mirror, deemed herself ready to tackle the world. The clock read 7:30 and Tamera knew she would be late if she didn't leave now, so she grabbed her keys from the dish on her dining table. 'I didn't even look at my mail last night!' she realized as she grabbed her bag sitting next to the table. It was mostly junk mail and two magazines, but an envelope marked "URGENT" caught her attention.

Ripping it open, she scanned the letter in horror. Her building had been bought in conjunction with the recent rezoning project and she had 30 days to move out. The letter further stated the rezoning meant the abandoned lot down the block where the residents parked their cars was now private property and "violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law." Granted it only mattered for another thirty days until the tenants were evicted, but the building was wedged in between another residential building and a strip mall, so no other parking was available. 'I'll just add that to the list of things to figure out later, after the meeting!' she thought.

With everything in hand, Tamera hurried out the door to her car, a used Kia Rio with well over six figures worth of miles. Red and tiny, the Rio would not have been such an embarrassment for her if not for the sagging front bumper, the dents and scratches decorating all four doors, and the dent in the trunk hood. Tamera had bought the junker off a girl living in her college dorm. The girl was graduating and needed to offload the car, Tamera needed a cheap car. She didn't even keep track anymore of how much money and time she'd poured into keeping the thing working - much more than the car was worth. Once that larger paycheck came, Tamera would treat herself to a new car.

Today, the car had a new addition. Fluttering in the wind, trapped under the windshield wiper blade was a letter. Releasing the paper, Tamera climbed into her car and unfolded the letter. The new owner of the block was exerting his rights early and starting last night at midnight, had ticketed any car parked illegally - including Tamera's. Tamera crumpled the letter and threw it in her satchel. She wasn't going to let a little bad luck bring her down. No, today changed everything for Tamera Roxanne York.

Arriving ten minutes late, Tamera rushed from the parking garage, through the building to her desk. She didn't think anyone noticed she was late until she saw Becki rounding the corner.

"Ah Tamera, finally here? Janice wants to see you after the morning meeting," Becki chirped, tossing her bleached blond hair over her cashmere shoulder.

Nodding her thanks, Tamera muttered 'Bitch" under her breath after Becki and her leopard print stilettos had disappeared. Becki had started with MediCorp six months after Tamera but, due to her incredible ass kissing skills had risen through the ranks. Becki didn't really do anything, but she was perky and, rumor had it, the office slut. The current rumor was that Becki had screwed the senior Marketing exec before he moved on to an up-and-coming model. The Marketing executive had transferred companies and currently Becki was an assistant to Alicia, the Vice President of Financial Services. To soothe her ruffled feathers, Tamera helped herself to a cup of coffee and a chocolate chip muffin. Dealing with Becki first thing in the morning definitely warranted some form of chocolate.

After booting up her computer, Tamera retrieved her voicemails and went to the break room to grab a cup of coffee and her mail. Each person she passed barely acknowledged the reserved woman. When she was promoted, Tamera would change that. People would respect her and listen to her opinions. In between replying to her emails, Tamera mentally reviewed her 'acceptance speech' and began to daydream of how great her life would be after today. She had just finished leaving a message for a customer when she felt someone enter her cube.  
"Hey there, Tammy," a smooth male voice came from behind.

Turning around, Tamera smiled to see Isaac. They had been dating semi-seriously for close to six months; no talk of deep commitment but they were exclusive. Isaac had been so supportive the past few weeks, ever since the Manager opening was announced. Tamera had tried to familiarize herself with all the Managers and Administrative staff, offering assistance and taking on extra projects to show how valuable and dedicated an employee she was.

She worked tirelessly reviewing coding procedures and analyzing claims submission processes for efficiency, even outlining some ways to the billing process and save the company money. With all the effort Tamera had put into this promotion, she honestly couldn't think of anyone who deserved it more than herself. And when she was announced as the new Manager, the first thing she planned to do was take Isaac for a nice dinner, or even a weekend away. The stress of preparing for the promotion had strained their relationship lately, so maybe a relaxing and romantic getaway would do them both good.

"Geez Isaac, you scared the crap out of me!" Tamera yelped, spinning the chair around.

"Well, maybe you should be more observant," he replied with a smile. "Are you ready for the meeting?"

"I think so, but I'm so nervous I hope I don't pass out," she laughed, grabbing a pen and paper. "Are you free for dinner tonight? We can celebrate this whole mess being done."

"Actually, I have plans," he frowned, "but I'll talk to you after the meeting." He patted her shoulder and with a tight smile walked away.

Tamera entered the conference room and took a seat along with everyone else. She sipped her coffee as her coworkers talked amongst each other. The caffeine was doing nothing for her nerves, but the repetitive action was soothing. Eventually, Susan, the senior manager of Patient Accounts, walked in along with the rest of the financial leadership team and Alicia.

"Good Morning, everyone! Hope you guys are having a fabulous Monday morning!" Susan began and launched the slide show presentation with the meeting's agenda. Janice quickly went through the slides that addressed their latest hot button items and outlined some changes to the policies, Tamera felt proud as she recognized some of the ideas she had suggested, confident she was going to get the job.

"And now our last item to discuss, as most of you know we are reorganizing some teams to improve efficiency and cut costs. All of us on the financial team and administration deliberated endlessly about this. I just mentioned some new procedures we'll be implementing, and I'm very excited about their impact on the company. These changes will streamline our whole business model, making communication between departments and improve our customer relations, not to mention we will increase our profit margin. Like most businesses, we've hit a rough period and despite other efforts, we just aren't making the numbers. We analyzed our current budget and projections but the restructure will mean some jobs are no longer necessary. Janice will be meeting with those employees who, unfortunately, we cannot keep.

"Part of this shuffle does mean a new manager opening. We worked with Human Resources and we are thrilled to announce after much consideration that the new manager is…Isaac! Congratulations Isaac! Over the next couple months Isaac will be in charge of implementing our changes and I think he has some great ideas for the future of the company. I know he's itching to get to work and will be meeting with his new team members soon. That's all for today, kids," Alicia finished and closed the presentation and, after shaking hands with Isaac, left the conference room.

Tamera was in shock, still mid-rise in her chair. She had been so sure. She had the qualifications, the desire, and the energy. How could this have happened? In numb silence she watched everyone congratulate her boyfriend as the room gradually emptied. It wasn't until someone knocked her chair that Tamera jolted back to reality and robotically stood and left.

Barely stepping foot into the hallway, Becki flounced over to her. "Aww… you look terrible, Tammy! What's the matter? It's not like you were applying for the Manager position so you should be happy for Isaac," she prattled.

"What? Oh, no. It's a lot of changes, a lot to process. I just can't believe Isaac got it. He never even mentioned that he approached Human Resources," Tamera tried to cover.

"Really? He told me a few times about the meetings he'd had with Alicia and Janice. Don't worry, though. I know Isaac will take care of the people important to him. Don't forget to find Janice."

"Oh, right. Thanks, Becki." Tamera replied without enthusiasm. Right now she wanted to be alone, not meet with Janice. 'Might as well get it over with,' Tamera thought. She walked through the floor and finally knocked on the door marked "Janice Dobson, Human Resources".

"Come in," came a cheerful reply. Janice wasn't always happy or perky, but she tried to be pleasant and optimistic, especially when dealing with difficult situations.

Tamera opened the door. "You wanted to see me?" She was half hoping Janice might be too busy.

"Ms. York, please have a seat," she gestured to the plush chairs opposite her crowded desk. Tamera closed the door and sat in the proffered chair.

"As you just heard, we have some big changes planned."

"I'm aware. I didn't know Isaac was being considered for the Manager position."

"He questioned a lot of our current processes and brought us some interesting ideas to try. I understand you had expressed interest in the position."

"Yes, I've worked very hard the past few weeks and I thought I had proven how loyal and valuable an employee I was," Tamera replied. "I was the one who investigated the entire Claims process and recommended those changes."

"All of that dedication was noted. However, you're still relatively new to the company. We felt you needed experience under your belt before embarking on the leadership path," Janice smiled sympathetically. Tamera cared about Isaac but she wasn't sure if he was any more leadership material than she was.

"Okay, I'm confused. What are we meeting about?" Tamera asked. She genuinely had no idea what HR needed to meet with her about. She did her work, rarely goofed off or misused company equipment, and she was (usually) on time.

Janice's smile faltered, which was a clear indication of broaching a topic of unpleasantness. "Unfortunately all that research you've done the past few weeks showed us ways we could consolidate teams and where redundancy existed in our business flow."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"The financial team was able to identify several instances of overlap, where one or more persons were doing the same tasks or reviewing the same information. By restructuring the teams, we can eliminate that overlap and save a lot of wasted time. With Isaac overseeing this new team, and by updating some software and procedures, we found that a full-time Claims Specialist is no longer required."

Tamera finally began to understand. "I don't have a job."

"I hate to say it, but we have to let you go, Tamera. By utilizing a Claims scrubber, taking advantage of electronic filing and having the coding staff directly review any errors, it will make everything much more efficient."

Tamera's mouth went dry. She had to swallow and clear her throat to speak. "I understand, Janice."

"I know the job market is tough out there, but you're bright, talented, dedicated, and I know any company will be happy to have you," Janice smiled encouragingly.

'Any company except the one I've devoted two years to,' Tamera thought bitterly.

"Take my card. You'll receive your packet in the mail about COBRA, along with some other forms. If you need a reference or assistance filing anything out, feel free to call." Tamera nodded and tucked the card in her notepad. She wouldn't ever call Janice or anyone else here. She would toss the card in the trash first chance she got. The cold smile plastered on the HR manager's face was testament to her professionalism, not a sincere concern for an ousted employee. After shaking Janice's hand, Tamera turned and left.

The walk to her cubicle was one of shame. Every person she passed seemed to look at her critically, like there was a blinking neon sign shouting "I just got fired" over her head. Eventually, she found an empty box and began packing up her cube. Her clock and name plate were the last items to go in the box, right on top of her Word-of-the-Day calendar and other mementoes. With a final wistful look at the barren workspace, Tamera hauled up the box and turned to see Isaac walking down the hallway towards her.

"Tough luck, kiddo. I tried to convince them how much we needed you," Isaac said.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Hopefully, I'll find something soon."

He nodded and began to walk with her towards the elevator. "You will, and you can use me as a reference."

Tamera nodded and swallowed, not liking what she had to say next. "Congratulations on the promotion. I'm sure you'll do great," she replied, though her eyes held none of the cheer and all of the disappointment she felt.

"I hope so, it's a lot of pressure," he smiled with his perfectly rehearsed answer.

Tamera's box was not heavy but it was awkward, and she felt it slipping as she pressed the DOWN button. When Isaac offered to carry the box, Tamera didn't refuse.

"Come on, Tammy. You honestly thought you would get the promotion?'

"I worked harder than anyone for that job, certainly harder than you," she snapped.

"Don't be like that. I helped you because you had good ideas, but business isn't about working hard or ideas. Business is done by powerful leaders who can exploit the people connection. You aren't a leader, Tammy."

"I can learn, Isaac. I would have proven my capability, but now I won't have the chance."

Isaac shook his head. "You were set to be fired before the restructure."

"What are you talking about?"

"In preparation for becoming a Manager I had to meet with Administration and Human Resources. I was asked to evaluate several team members in order to create a solid team. Your numbers were dropping and Alicia was disappointed in your performance. I told her you were working on an analyst project for me to buy you some time," he answered.

"You were already a candidate for Manager when you began helping me?" His silence spoke volumes but Tamera was more confused than ever. Isaac had been at MediCorp for barely over a year. The only way he would be on the fast track was if he had help, someone on the inside of Administration.

The dots connected one by one. Becki had revealed her knowledge of Isaac's candidacy and his meetings with Alicia and Janice and Becki was Alicia's assistant- and mole. Isaac and Becki were friends and if Becki recommended him for the job, Alicia would at least check him out. Isaac had used her ideas to secure his promotion and his perfect cover story ensured no one would second guess his betrayal.

Already fearing the answer, a perverse part of Tamera had to know. "Did Becki help you?"

"Don't bring her into this. She wants the company to succeed, and we've been friends since she joined MediCorp."

Another answer became clear. "You're sleeping with her, aren't you? That's why you pulled away a few weeks ago."

"Yes, Becki and I have been seeing each other for about six weeks. I'm sorry you had to find out like this, but it wasn't working between us, Tamera. You're a great girl..."

"Spare me the condescending speech," Tamera cut him off and jerked open the door to the backseat, tossing her box onto it. She slammed the door shut and climbed into the driver's seat.

"I really do wish you the best, Tammy," Isaac said before Tamera yanked the door out of his hands.

Looking at him one last time, all she wanted to do was punch his perfect, smug face but inner pride begged her to keep what little dignity she still had. "That's great Isaac. I hope you get everything you deserve," she said before starting the car and pulling out of the parking space. Luck was on her side as the bitter tears didn't crest her cheeks until she angled her car out of the garage and onto the streets of Gotham.

Tamera maneuvered her car through the streets, only peripherally obeying the traffic laws. Not caring about your destination implies thinking about your destination. Tamera simply moved her car to follow the flow of traffic. The only indication that she was still in Midtown were the high-rise office buildings and the signs to East City Park. Sitting at a stoplight, Tamera saw a diner down the street and prepared to turn right until a dark blue SUV came barreling through the intersection. After cursing the reckless driver, she turned and pulled into the diner's parking lot.

Nothing improves a crappy day like a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate knew she shouldn't waste her money, but the comfort food seemed more important than rationing her bank account. Tamera lazily scanned the newspaper while she ate, more out of boredom that actual curiosity.

Most of the news didn't seem important to her, but she was fascinated that the new mayor was holding a press conference from the City Hall atrium to discuss her referenda. Normally, Tamera didn't involve herself with politics as she thought all politicians lied to an extent, it was a matter of degrees. She had voted for Jacqueline Connors because the other candidates seemed like the less desirable choices. It would be interesting to hear what Mayor Connors had in store for Gotham.

As she pulled the Classifieds section out to begin her job hunt, Tamera realized she needed something to mark the possibilities. She reached into her bag for a pen and saw the Eviction notice and ticket. 'Well, at least I can use my free time to take care of the parking ticket,' she groused. The ticket listed "trespassing" as the violation cause. "Vehicle parked in private parking lot," was scratched in the description box. 'What the hell? It's not a private parking lot, it's completely empty!' Tamera fumed. Pulling out the other two papers, Tamera opened the letter she had pulled from her windshield. At the top, in large bold font read, "Parking Memo". Mr. Pryce, who had purchased her apartment building, had also purchased the vacant lot and was enforcing his ownership immediately. Apparently he felt his owner's rights extended to ticketing cars without notice.

Tamera considered calling Mr. Pryce's office but talked herself down almost as soon as she had her cell phone in hand. Obviously someone had alerted the cops to the alleged parking violations - someone who knew it used to be a vacant lot. Still, even if bringing grievance to the ruthless businessman was futile, Tamera hoped she could argue her way out of the ticket. Seeing that jerk be denied the satisfaction of not pushing one peon over would be worth the fight!

If she could persuade the court that there was no proof of ownership or prior notice of the ownership change, then maybe she could have the ticket voided on a technicality. It was certainly worth a try, she had nothing to lose by trying. The worst thing that would happen is the court ruled against her and she would have to pay the ridiculous ticket anyway. Emboldened by her miniscule hope, she dialed her building's super.

Tamera was almost positive that no signage or other notification was posted in the area which meant no discernable owner was listed to the public. Hopefully George could get her some proof that she could take down to City Hall right away. On the back of the actual violation was listed instruction for paying and disputing any citations. Deciding it was best to straighten out her unwarranted ticket while she had free time, Tamera searched the parking ticket until she found a local phone number. Her fingers punched the keys and hit "Talk" then drummed against the table as the phone rang.

On the third ring, a tired and monotone voice croaked over the line "Thank you for calling Gotham City, how may I assist you?"

"Hi there. I got a parking ticket and I don't think I should have," Tamera answered.

A sigh of resignation crept through the phone and Tamera heard the rustling of papers. "Go ahead," the crone rasped.

"I live in Lochlan Towers and it was recently bought. The new owner sent a letter about the change of ownership and our impending eviction." The crone grunted for Tamera to continue. "I just received the eviction notice – which states I have thirty days to move out – but this morning I also received a parking ticket."

"Where were you parked?"

"In the vacant lot on Oak Street. No one owns it but since our building has no available parking the residents always park there."

"It sounds like someone owns it now."

"Not until next month. If the new owner doesn't have rights to the parking lot, can he ticket our cars?"

"Do you have proof that the lot is vacant?"

"Yes, I can take pictures and provide a copy of the letter and the ticket itself," Tamera said.

"Without evidence I cannot determine if your ticket is valid or not," the worker stated. "You can request an administrative hearing to review your case; you can do this by mail or in person at our office at City Hall."

"I'll bring my evidence in person, thanks," Tamera said and disconnected the call. Immediately, she dialed her building's super.

"Mr. Easton? It's Tamera York in 3C and I have a huge favor. We all got tickets this morning for parking in that abandoned lot on Oak Street. Can you please take some pictures of it to prove there are no signs of ownership? Send them to my phone and I'll print them off. "

"Sure thing, Ms. York. Lucy's doing much better, by the way. Thanks for all your help."

Tamera smiled, "You're welcome George. I really appreciate this. Good luck with the move."  
"Yeah, you too. Sucks ass, Ms. York, but what can ya do when The Man has ya by the balls, eh?"

"Very true, George. I'll see you later." Tamera had used her insurance knowledge to help George fill out various forms so his daughter, Lucy, could get treatments necessary to cure her meningitis. Not the most ethical of actions, but the Eastons were nice people. Of course they got free rent by managing the building, and with Lucy's health problems, Tamera worried what kind of future they both would have.

Mr. Easton kept his word and minutes later pictures from various angles of the lot were received by Tamera's phone. After paying for lunch, Tamera drove to a shipping center down the street. She forwarded the pictures to her email account and was then able to print those off as well as make copies of her other documents. With her packet complete, Tamera aimed her car towards City Hall.

*Author's Note: Sorry all. Had some really crazy stuff going on recently. Working on chapters 3 and 4 though so should be posted soon. Reviews are encouraged as that's what keeps me (and Riddler) inspired.

Happy Holidays!

*Chapter anthem is Bad Day by Daniel Powter


	3. The Devil went down to GeorgiaChapter 3

**Lovers and Madmen**

Characters - Edward Nygma (The Riddler)/Female OC

Rating for language, violence, and eventual sexual scenarios

Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to DC/Batman. I own original characters only. This story is merely to entertain, no infringement or offense meant.

Chapter 3: The Devil Went Down to Georgia 

After parking, Tamera made her way up the steps into City Hall and quickly found her destination on the directory. Within minutes she was in the office of Code Enforcement. Since it was the start of the lunch hour, only one worker manned the counter but luckily only five people were ahead of her. Tamera took a number and patiently waited – 40 minutes – for her number to be called. Unceremoniously the city worker took the packet of documentation and explained the Appeals process. 'All I can do now was wait and hope' she thought as she climbed back into the elevator. 

The ride back to the lobby was uneventful but when the doors opened, it was a media circus. Granted many people were returning to work after lunch but this utter madness. Once two men standing behind her began discussing the mayor's upcoming speech Tamera made the connection. Normally Tamera did not pay much attention to politics, especially on the local level. As far as she was concerned most politicians were either crooked or selfish. She believed some were generally intelligent people who wanted to make a difference but the system got in the way. And Gotham was hardly the shining example of justice and virtue. Tamera had voted for Mayor Connors because she felt Ms. Connors was the best candidate. Tamera knew the Mayor was announcing her agenda soon but she had forgotten the press conference was scheduled for that afternoon. Somehow the petite woman fought the sea of people and was almost to the entrance when the glass doors clicked. The people in front of Tamera pushed on the doors but they were locked. Suddenly the PA system crackled to life.

"Greetings Gothamites, The Riddler here with a much-needed wake-up call. I wonder if any of you are smart enough to solve this riddle. If you can, you may return to your dull, dismal robotic lives where you follow, like sheep, buffoon leaders incapable of keeping order. If you do not solve it, I'm afraid you will find yourself in the hot seat, so to speak. I am a reasonable man so I will give you one chance to deduce the key to your freedom.

_Here you are:_  
_Block the siren which travels over silent waves_  
_Or suffer the stink of failure._  
_Mayor Connors is doing a bang up job_  
_But a lemon can wreck a house of stone._  
"I am watching, so if anyone tries anything _heroic_, you die. You have one hour. Happy Solvi ng!" The Riddler chirped and the PA went dead.

Immediately the lobby erupted into chaos. Screams and pleas for help battled with cries of anguish in the small lobby.

"He's jammed the cell signal, I can't get any reception!" A young woman cried. Several others soon confirmed that all cell phone service in the lobby was unavailable. Some of the hostages were personnel that worked at City Hall so they tried coworkers from the lobby phones.

"Where's SWAT?"  
"Where's Batman?"  
"I mean, seriously, this is stupid! No one can solve this crap!"  
"Let us go you psycho!"

There was no means of escape. The entrance doors were locked tight and the only option was to shut the power grid down and reboot it – if that would even work. Even if it did work there just wasn't enough time and it was a gamble against the Riddler's threats that had too high a risk. No, the citizens of Gotham who had unwittingly visited City Hall that Friday afternoon were stuck. The lower level windows were made from bulletproof glass and relatively unbreakable but that did not deter some people from trying.

A group of men picked up chairs. One chair hit a window but bounced off the thick glass, cracking as it hit the marbled floor. A large Hispanic officer rushed to the group, one hand resting on his sidearm. "Next person to break city property gets tasered!," he yelled, placing himself between the armed men and the windows. It took less than a minute to realize he was serious so the mob lowered the chairs back to the floor. Climbing on top of a table, he waved his arms and screamed to get the crowd's attention.

"Look, we're all in this together but we can't lose our heads. The doors are locked and we have to assume the Riddler is monitoring us. I'm not willing to risk the life of anyone here that he will make good on his threats. If you please remain calm, we can work on a solution to get everyone out of here safely," he addressed the frantic crowd. Several people began firing questions but the policeman tried to weave through the mob to his colleagues. Luckily Riddler was in such a hurry to get the party started that he blocked the cell tower signal but did not have time to interfere with the departmental walkie-talkies. The officers were able to communicate with others, including Commissioner Gordon, in the building and begin strategizing. Ten minutes had passed.

Fifteen minutes later, the chaos gradually dwindled. There were still children crying and parents desperately trying to soothe them, people trying to get some message to the outside world. A group of hostages was huddled together tearfully praying. Tamera was not a religious person. She considered herself spiritual – she knew that even if you believe in the Big Bang Theory, something had to create the atoms. Maybe once she had five minutes left her opinion would change.

With many of the hostages otherwise occupied, it was easy enough for Tamera to find a secluded corner. Considering that death was a distinct possibility, worrying about getting some dirt on her butt seemed trivial. She sat with her back to the corner and considered her options. The exits were blocked or inaccessible, and Riddler was presumably watching their every move and external communication had been disabled. Peachy. Not that she really had anyone she would call; she no longer had a boyfriend or job and while she did have a few friends she did not feel that overwhelming and melodramatic need to pour her heart out in the last minutes of her life. Even if she was able to contact her mother, Claire York was the type of mother that would question why Tamera was not at work on a Friday afternoon and how she could be so reckless to land herself into such a deadly situation. June Cleaver her mother was not, but thinking on that was not how Tamera wanted to spend the next hour.

In that moment Tamera envied many of her fellow hostages. People who had families and homes, futures full of prosperity and opportunity. What had she accomplished in her short life other than a fair amount of student loan debt? Who would miss her when she died? Her mother, but that was about it. What impact would Tamera York leave on the world? In that moment Tamera realized she had been 'existing' but not living. Her life had been comfortable and convenient but in no way challenging. If she made it out alive, Tamera vowed she would find a purpose for her life. She would find fulfillment. The first step would be embracing her fate; if she died in a few minutes, at least she would die fighting.

A trio of businessmen nearby recited the clue to Tamera who then wrote it out on a sheet of paper. At first glance, the clue made no sense because nothing matched. So Tamera broke the clue down, line by line, underlining what she thought were key words and phrases. Then she played word association until she noticed a pattern. Confidant of her answer, Tamera scribbled the answer (including numbers) on a scrap of her paper, tore the sheet, waded it into a ball and placed her hand and ball of paper into her pocket, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She walked to the counter and got a female officer's attention.

"Officer Grady. is there a restroom? I really need to go," she pleaded, holding up her empty water bottle. In truth she had gone before coming to the station, but if Riddler was watching, hopefully he would take the 'hint' and not pay her any attention. The officer eyed her speculatively, then nodded and motioned for Tamera to follow. Grabbing her hand in gratitude, she slipped the paper into the officer's hand, and mouthed 'I know the answer. The officer looked at her like she was nuts, but read the notes with Tamera's 'proof' and had to admit, there was a strong possibility of it being the answer; Hell, it was the only lead they had at the moment, and time was quickly running out. The cop dropped Tamera off at the bathroom and went to inform the others of her theory; Tamera splashed some cold water on her face and hoped she was correct.

The female officer radioed Commissioner Gordon who replied he would get the details to SWAT. Eventually Tamera rejoined the crowd and waited, watching the clock as the minutes ticked by. She hesitated to say anything to her fellow hostages as she did not want to start a riot, especially if she was wrong. Also she wanted to give the police and SWAT as much time as possible before The Riddler figured out her ploy. The remaining minutes ticked away and seven were left. Some were still screaming and pleading for freedom but by this point most of the hostages were crying, praying or sitting in silence, having given their fate to inevitability. She was shocked that they had given up; it was like they didn't care. No one - to their knowledge - had saved them so they sat like zombies. A part of Tamera thought they deserved this fate - not being blown up, of course, but they weren't willing to defend themselves, to fight for their lives. If they were content sitting around waiting on some hero to swoop in and make all the bad things go away, to act like lemmings, then they deserved to be treated like lemmings. Finally Commissioner Gordon came on the PA, "We have an answer Riddler; SWAT and the _special _task force are in place. If we solved it, you have to let us go!"

A minute of silence passed, then, "Well, well. I must commend you, you are correct! I release you, use the reprieve wisely, ladies and gentlemen," Riddler gritted out. A few minutes later, the lock clicked again, signaling freedom. Without delay people began exiting the doors, shoving and yelling in the frenzy for freedom. Tamera found the officer she had dealt with earlier and approached her.

"Wow, I don't know how you figured it out, but we all owe you a thank you. You saved everybody's lives today, you're a hero," Grady effused. The comment brought back her earlier inner monologue.

"I just worked at it," Tamera told her, trying to stay polite. Even the police were lemmings; they had been no more useful in preventing the situation or in its solution. "I only did what anyone else could have done. That's really what I came to talk to you about. I know have to write a report, and I prefer to be left out of it as much as possible."

"I don't understand, the Commissioner, maybe even the Mayor will want to meet you. You would be in the news and everything."

Tamera had always been one of those people who shied from the spotlight and being commended and hero worshipped for something anyone could have - and should have - done just infuriated her.  
"That's very nice and all, but really, I'm a private person - I don't want to be mentioned. At all. Besides, the police and SWAT did the dangerous part. Give them the credit!"

Grady looked extremely displeased about it, but nodded and said she would do what she could to keep Tamera out of the report and press. Tamera then joined the stragglers in leaving the building. Once outside, personnel were directing the 'released' captives so they would not be in the way of SWAT and the cleanup process. Everyone was told scene they could not remove their vehicles until the area was secure and no longer a crime, but the city would provide cab service to anyone unable to secure transportation otherwise. Declining to speak to any reporters, Tamera went through her limited list of contacts. She discounted calling her mother as the last thing she wanted at the moment was unnecessary stress. Unfortunately she now had no significant other and was unable to reach any co-workers or friends, so the beleaguered woman opted for the cab.

As she opened the door to her apartment and turned on the light, she couldn't escape the loneliness that draped around her. In one day she had lost her job, her home and almost her life. Well, at least things couldn't get worse, she mused, as she set a TV dinner in her microwave. Once heated, she turned on the TV and angled her chair so she could view it from her kitchen table. As she ate dinner she was pleased to note her anonymity in the segment on the earlier drama at City Hall, smirking when Commissioner Gordon and some of the bystanders praised the speed and diligence of the police force in averting tragedy. They _should _take credit. Their inefficiency in protecting the people, inability to anticipate a catastrophe, and their reliance on a civilian to unravel the plot - yeah, responsibility rested solely on their shoulders, as far as she was concerned. Granted he was extreme in his methods, but Tamera thought very briefly that The Riddler might have a point. Gotham needed a wake-up call.

Edward Nygma was typically not a physical man, but right now he wanted desperately to beat the shit out of someone or something, so he settled for throwing his coffee mug against the wall. The shattering gave him minuscule satisfaction, but now he had neither coffee nor mug. Ungracefully he flung himself back into his chair. He admitted the clue had been relatively easy, but how could Gotham City's Finest Dimwits have solved it, and so quickly? More puzzling still was _who _had solved it. Surveillance was tedious, but he had to know, so he pulled up the video footage and began to watch.

Commissioner Gordon announced the solution so either he solved it (somewhat unlikely) or someone else solved it and passed it along to their esteemed boss. Zooming in on the older man's face, Eddie was able to isolate his lips. With a sigh, he set the time code back and watched, this time on super slow speed. The thick mustache created a small problem but the experienced criminal was able to transcribe the conversations the police chief had with the unfortunate subordinates stuck on his floor that afternoon. Some of it was expected – protect the Mayor, locate Batman, find me The Riddler. Alternating barking orders from his office, the Commissioner was speaking over radio to officers and the Mayor throughout the event. His efforts created a one-sided dialogue; eventually Eddie planned to go back through and fill in the blanks – see how the Mayor survived her first official crisis – but for now he was singularly concerned with the average person who had beaten him. Finally he deciphered the part where the clue and its answer were discussed. So, he marked the time code and began cycling through the rest of the footage in that same range to see which officers or citizens were using police-issued radios. It was grueling but three hours in he had narrowed the 'suspect' to the lobby. He was then able to identify the officers and read the other half of Gordon's conversation.

_"Commissioner, we have a civilian who thinks she solved the riddle," the officer said._

_"Okay, let's hear it," Gordon replies._

_"A car bomb, probably made from fertilizer with a remote signal."_

_"That does seem to fit the clues. Where is the car?" Gordon asks as he makes some notes on paper._

_"Right outside. Probably parked close enough to get the building."_

_Gordon sighs as he scratches his chin. "If it is City Hall, the only close parking is the metered parking, right out front. Yeah, that would Riddler's of a message, right under our own god-damned noses! I'll direct SWAT to start there. Let's hope this works," he finishes. After confirming details with SWAT, he writes the answer on a notepad and holds it up to the nearest security camera._

So, as Eddie suspected, it was _not_ the proud and valiant police department but a citizen. Interesting but not shocking by any means. Using that knowledge Eddie restarted the footage and focused this time on the citizens. He saw the expected hysterics and prayers, the men trying to break down the doors and windows, a woman getting her wallet stolen. How nice. Some presumably were working on the answer, based on the intense looks of concentration on their dull faces. Using the time code as reference, he watched for any interactions between the citizens and police. The only possibility was a woman who left the lobby to go the bathroom. Because after the female officer returns from escorting Sheepette to the toilet, she radios Gordon who contacts SWAT and the bomb squad to secure the parking lot directly next to City Hall's front steps. And damnit all if they didn't check the cars and find the van. The Commissioner had answered correctly; trapped by his own warped sense of ethics, Riddler _had_ to let them go, but he could not understand how the situation had gotten away from his control. Eddie hated not being in control.

Eddie used his picture of Sheepette - as he had taken to calling her - he searched he Gotham DMV database. Her presence at City Hall implied that she had business there, which meant she was local. The search took a few hours and Eddie hated every agonizing minute. When the alert chimed, he flew to his seat and went to work. He had her basic information - name, address, and birthday so he was able to do a thorough background search. Within the hour he knew almost everything about Tamera Roxanne York.

~

When Tamera awoke the next morning, she found it disheartening not to prepare for work. MediCorp was not her dream job but she had been good at it. At this point in her life, Tamera had hoped to be approaching mid-level management and now she had to fight an army of fresh-faced college grads. The rest of the previous day's events hit her full force and the tears came unbidden. Tamera cried for her failures and wasted potential until she could cry no more. Then her affirmation from yesterday shone like a star, dispelling the gloom. New day, new start, new life. The unemployed woman pulled herself out of bed, showered and dressed. Armed with new resolve Tamera was ready to tackle her dysfunctional life. 'I'll get some boxes, get a coffee and update my resume,' she thought. First things first – retrieving her car. Tamera grabbed her keys and bag and made her way back to City Hall.

The Riddler was obsessive and more than a little neurotic but it was also a valuable asset during reconnaissance and surveillance. He had slept a paltry four hours the night before, wanting to be camped outside Tamera's building before daybreak. His patience was rewarded when the woman appeared. On first glance, she was dull. Jeans and t-shirt, ponytail, dejected expression – this was a boring, vanilla woman.

The briefest thought of killing her right then and there flashed across his mind. The data he had acquired painted a bleak picture of a mistress of mediocrity. Dead-end job (which he learned she had been let go from), crappy apartment in a crappy neighborhood, a car common thieves would avoid. By ending Tamera York's life he would be doing her a favor - sparing her the disappointment of a life of thankless toil and unachieved potential. However, her imminent demise was stalled by his right-hand man, Rocco.

"Hey Boss, do you need us to run distraction for ya?"

"No. Her car is still at City Hall so I am confident that will be her first priority. Just stay here until I return. And if anyone asks, you're movers," Riddler instructed, tossing a clipboard with a bogus work order.

Riddler found Tamera's apartment and it took less than five minutes to pick the flimsy lock. Once inside he briefly surveyed the dwelling for signs of another inhabitant. All the mail and bills on the dining table were addressed to "Tamera York" so Edward felt confident she lived alone. He rifled through the papers on her table – bills, junk mail and an Eviction Notice. Deciding the kitchen inspection was complete, he moved on.

The living room held a three tier bookshelf lined with a mixture of the classics and modern fare. She had a small couch whose back ran parallel with the kitchen and a matching oversized chair, creating an L around her simple mahogany coffee table. Edward believed a lot could be said about a person by their coffee table. He did not own one, but it was the center point to the room and how it was decorated spoke volumes about what impression the host wanted to make on guests. For instance, the table had no décor – not even a magazine, coaster, or remote. Obviously she did not have visitors or entertain. Looking around the house, that Spartan, frumpy feel was everywhere. How could she live like this? It was so barren and depressing Eddie felt suffocated just standing there.

Peeking inside her bathroom he noticed, unlike most women, a decidedly low maintenance beauty regimen. Simple hair products – curling iron, hair dryer, brush and comb, shampoo, conditioner and hair spray – all generic and low cost products to boot. Normal body wash, loofah, shaving cream and razor. Her shower curtain was a cream-colored mesh over a rust colored liner. The medicine cabinet revealed typical over-the-counter fare such as aspirin and allergy pills but nothing prescription. Hell, this woman didn't even own mouthwash. Perusal of the cabinets around the sink revealed more boring items – toilet paper, extra toiletry items and organic cleaning supplies.

The last room for inspection was the bedroom. A full size bed with a cherry headboard and a matching dresser and nightstand were the only pieces of furniture. The nightstand had a simple lamp and clock but nothing else. Since the bedroom faced north, the room got some natural light so a sheer panel in pale gold was all that was necessary to cover the window. The sheer drapes matched the cream and gold comforter on the full-sized bed. Not that Eddie was an interior designer but the room could definitely use some style. A little color could go a long way in this woman's life. The closet was full of plain clothes – jeans, plain t-shirts, simple suit separates in earth tones. There were a few pieces with designs or rich colors but overall Tamera's wardrobe said safe, conventional and boring. Not everyone could pull off Kelly green but brown and black? Eddie was finishing his perusal of the bedroom as he heard Rocco over his earpiece. Knowing Little Miss Boring was on her way up Eddie quickly assessed the most effective introduction and got in position. Minutes later he heard low muttering as she fumbled with her keys and the lock before finally succeeding with the door.

The woman before him matched the image he had formed in his head. Plain white tennis shoes that were moderately worn through adorned her feet. The rest of her outfit was a pair of normal, bootcut jeans (probably from a bargain clothing store) and a light gray t-shirt with a black rose printed on it. Her auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail. After setting her coffee and purse on the kitchen counter, she retrieved a bundle of cardboard boxes from the hallway. Edward was beginning to wonder if he had the right person; this woman was frighteningly unobservant.

"One good thing - being out of work means plenty of time to pack," she grumbled as she shut and locked the door. When Tamera turned around, she was grateful that her coffee was on the counter as she would have dropped it or thrown it when she saw a silhouetted figure seated in her living room.

"I'm calling the police," she shakily called to the figure as she groped for her purse and eventually pulled out a cell phone from the front pocket. But Tamera was too late as Riddler had already positioned himself in front of the door.

"And tell them what? By the time they got here I would be long gone and I assure you there is no evidence that I was ever here," he chuckled darkly in her ear. A sick part of him was entertained by the terror mounting with every retreating step until the realized she was utterly trapped.

"What do you want?" she rasped, turning on the light. Tamera felt a fraction of relief as the safety of fluorescent light flooded the kitchen. At least she could see him now, for what difference it made.

"What a hackneyed and uninspired question. Certainly you can do better than that, Miss York," her guest admonished before making himself comfortable in her favorite oversized chair. Now that she was certain she was not being robbed and reasonably certain she was not going to die, Tamera allowed herself a calming breath.

"Fine, how about - who are you, and why are you terrorizing me in my home?"

"Terrorizing is a strong word. I merely wished to meet the woman who single-handedly foiled The Riddler's dastardly design at City Hall. What is truly interesting about a crisis situation is a person's reaction. I love watching people, especially when they find themselves in those do-or-die scenarios. Most people spend those last moments fighting and pleading, lamenting and caterwauling. Then there are those who pray; to find that last shred of peace before they meet their doom. The most interesting type of all is the unsung hero. When I saw the TV and newspaper reports, though, one thing was curious. Not one survivor mentioned you, or how solved the clue."

"It wasn't that difficult, really. If any of them had given it serious thought, they could have figured it out." The way the stranger's eyes picked up a devilish glint to them as he steepled his fingers had Tamera instantly on edge. Maybe it was the stress form everything she had been through lately but Tamera kicked herself that she couldn't lie more effectively. "I - how - no one knows that I solved the clue."

"Hmm. I admit I was almost positive it was you but I had to confirm my suspicion. You just did," he said, grinning like the Chesire Cat. The sunlight caught his cuff links and shining brightly was a pair of cuff links - one shaped like a question mark, the other like a jigsaw puzzle piece. The Riddler chuckled, sensing the exact moment his hostess knew whom precisely was sitting in her apartment.

Tamera's peaches-and-cream complexion paled to chalky white. "You're The Riddler?"

He tipped his hat, "At your service, madam."

"So what does The Riddler want with me?"

"As I stated, I study people. You reacted…unexpectedly. I find myself intrigued by the unexpected. Your response differed from those of the other hostages. So I learned who Tamera Roxanne York was, at least on paper, but my curiosity was not satisfied unless I met her in person," he shrugged, as is talking someone was perfectly normal. To the Riddler it was.

"That still doesn't explain why you are _here_," she replied, trying to infuse her voice with bravado she didn't feel.

"I am also extremely vain – I did not expect a plebian like you to solve one of my riddles. I had to size you up, so to speak."

"..." It was unbelievably frustrating for her not to tell her guest off. "Okay, so you stalked me to find out how and why I solved a riddle. Again, that still doesn't explain why you are here - in. my. apartment."

"Ah, well you need to phrase your questions more precisely. I am here, as I said, to learn more about you. I was planning on killing you but now that we've met, I realize you could be an asset to me. I am willing to offer you a job, on a trial basis, of course."

Tamera stared at him, mouth agape. "I heard that you were insane, but now I know you must be. You're asking a complete stranger to commit crimes for you?"

"When you think about it, every prospective employee is a stranger. _You_ are not a stranger to _me_ as I've learned about you, studied you. Secondly, crime is such a subjective word. A man that steals food to feed his family is branded a criminal, but would not watching his children die of starvation be a crime far worse?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Crimes are punishments for laws broken - laws made and set by men and women like you and me. Years ago drinking was a crime and now look at us - liquor stores, bars on every corner, beer consumed in public at sporting events."

"I don't see how you can compare having a beer at a football game to…robbing a jewelry store."

"Simple - the concept of possession." At Tamera's incredulous look he continued. "For instance, gems are mined from the earth - grown and then harvested by men, polished and sold. The same is true for precious metals - gold, silver, platinum."

"Yes, but that is a case of possession - someone owns the land, the equipment, another entity owns the gem brokerage firm, and the jeweler buys the products to sell."

"All on paper, m'dear. If we are to believe the land is free and all this was created by a divine being - I fail to see anywhere that says men are entitled to exclusive use of our basic resources. If you want to take it even further, let's argue there is ownership. Each of the employees at the quarries, the excavating companies, the refineries - they are members of those 'owners' so do they not have some entitlement to the goods they are helping to obtain? It is by their labor the goods are made available for possession. The compensation those workers receive certainly does reflect their cooperation in the possessive process. Besides, most of those lands and resources were gained illegally to begin with, so I would argue possession null and void. In the case of antiquities, often the records are shoddy at best so determining the original, true owner is impossible. For all you know the item may very well belong to an ancestor. And I do not _keep_ the items, I merely relocate them to someone who desires and appreciates them. What good are items to sit in stores or warehouses or vaults, never to be admired or treasured?"

"Okay, you can't justify murder!"

"Ah, murder. For the record I rarely involve myself with it, if possible. I may be 'insane' but I am not a sociopath. Murder is determined by laws and courts - men and women. I'm not discounting evidence or witnesses, but what one interpretation of murder may be considered manslaughter or self-defense by someone else. And we must look at the context - if you assassinate a tyrannical dictator or possible terrorist, thereby saving thousands of lives in the process, one paltry murder seems almost inconsequential. Again, I rarely dirty my hands that way as I feel slaughtering people is so unimaginative and common. If you really despise someone that greatly, there are many, far more inventive ways to neutralize a person that can be so much more satisfying. Death is final, but the sweetest revenge is that which can be exacted time and time again."

Relatively sure the Riddler was not going to kill her - for now - Tamera sat down on the couch opposite the chair he currently occupied. Desperately she tried to find rebuttals for his arguments. Well, he wasn't called a master logician for nothing. "Even if I accepted your explanations, why _me_? Don't you have thugs to do your dirty work?" she asked.

"Certainly. What I cannot hire is someone with a keen mind, an eye for detail and subtlety - someone intelligent who can help with the finer, more intricate points in my plans. Sometimes a hammer is far more effective than a wrecking ball," he smirked. Well, being called intelligent by the Riddler was undoubtedly a compliment. Tamera searched his face for any sign of joking and found none - he was completely earnest in his offer.

"I still can't accept - it's just...wrong," she squirmed.

"You cannot stand there and tell me that you don't need the money, as I know moving costs on top of your dwindling income is testament to that. As far as the wrongness," Riddler leaned forward, locking gazes with her. "Have you ever watched a movie, read a book, or listened to the news and been incensed when justice was not served? Company executives riding roughshod, doing whatever they please with not even a slap on the wrist. But when disaster strikes, the privileged get bailouts and their pensions while the distraught people they wronged stand in the streets begging for food and a roof over their head. _That_ is wrong .

Before Tamera could interject, he continued, "What about upstart employees robbing promotions from hard-working veterans by sleeping their way to the top? I would say that, too, is a gross injustice". Riddler smirked, knowing he had hit the chink in her armor.

The image of Becki and Isaac being fire and forced to work menial jobs where they were abused and belittled came immediately to mind; Tamera loathed admitting it, but a great amount of pleasure coursed through her. Shaking away the mental picture, she focused on the dangerous man before her. "If I were to agree, what exactly would I be doing?"

"At first you would be doing small tasks - surveillance, decoy, maybe even placing clues or packages. If you are any good, I shall re-evaluate your role in the organization."

"So I wouldn't be doing any of the, er, appropriating?"

The Riddler laughed heartily. "My dear, right now I wouldn't trust you to appropriate a toaster that the bank gives away for free. No, you will be far removed from the 'dirty work' as you put it." By her body language and facial expression, Riddler could tell she was fighting for a reason to say no and losing. Eventually she sighed in defeat and he knew he had won. "Great, we'll be in touch," he smiled and rose from the chair.

The click of the door latch startled Tamera back to reality, if it weren't for the butt imprint in her chair, she would have laughed the whole scene off as a stress-induced hallucination. The Riddler - the infamous and insane criminal mastermind had been in her apartment, making pleasantries and had even offered her a job. While she began packing her apartment she idly wondered if this was what people referred to as making a deal with the devil.

Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me _forever_ to update. Between the holidays and some other 'events' that popped up, it has been a hellish few months. Stick with me, please! I have much more fun in store. Leave a review and let me know what you like (or don't). This chapter was un-betaed so please tell me if you see any mistakes or OOC. Chapter somewhat inspired by "The Devil Went Down to Georgia".


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